


If It's Wednesday, It Must Be Pumpernickel

by lamardeuse



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, crackish AU about domestic chores and Symbolic Sandwiches (TM).</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It's Wednesday, It Must Be Pumpernickel

**Author's Note:**

> Symbolic Sandwiches copyright mrsronweasley and brooklinegirl, 2008.

Rodney was used to a certain routine in his life and work – order was his mistress, and always had been. But since John had first shown up at his office for his interview to be Rodney's research assistant, that careful routine had been plunged into chaos. The trouble was, with his indecently tight pants on casual days, his frighteningly non-linear (but yes, all right, brilliant) reasoning, and his ability to debate the merits of Rodan versus Mechagodzilla, John was irresistible. Since he ended up getting utterly fantastic sex out of the bargain, Rodney wasn't inclined to complain at first, but last week – after a solid three weeks of living with John and watching his carefully planned existence descend into a morass of disarray – he'd decided it was time to reassert some measure of control over his domain, and he'd presented John with a schedule on Sunday for the upcoming week.

John had peered at it in that maddening way he had, the way that silently said, _your ways are strange to me, Earthling._

“I thought it would be a good idea if we started trading off household duties,” Rodney said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “I think you'll see I've made an effort to divide the work fairly along the lines of difficulty and time commitment.”

“This is what you spent yesterday afternoon doing?” John sniffed, turning the paper sideways, as though it might be written in some alien script he couldn't understand. “When I wanted to go to the beach?”

Rodney cleared his throat. “Some things are more important than fun.”

John raised an eyebrow at him, then took a step forward, right into Rodney's space. “Oh, yeah?”

Rodney cleared his throat again, though it wasn't quite as successful this time. “Yes. John, you haven't even read – nnng,” Rodney added, because John was now nuzzling his neck. “You're trying to – to change the subject.”

“Nothing gets past you, Rodney,” John murmured, and oh, shit, that was a tongue, that was definitely a tongue, and Rodney really should try harder to resist, because this was important, but right now he couldn't seem to remember what he'd been talking about, so he might as well let John do – that, yes, and definitely _that_ – until it could come back to him.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

It was another week before Rodney remembered the schedule again. This setback, however, only renewed his determination to enforce it. John didn't actively resist, merely ignored the copies Rodney posted in prominent locations throughout the apartment. Rodney calculated the probability that he'd lose a direct confrontation at fairly close to one hundred percent, and so he decided to try leading by example. He started with something simple: preparing lunches for them both. He'd picked this task because in the time Rodney had known him, John had shown absolutely no inclination to cook beyond the reheating of a frozen pizza and the preparation of microwave popcorn. Granted, the crust was always sufficiently crispy and there was never a single burnt kernel, but this to Rodney was insufficient proof of being able to make anything involving the combination of actual ingredients.

John had hovered around Rodney as he prepared the sandwiches each evening, even offering to help, but Rodney had firmly insisted this was _his_ job, and that if John wanted to help, he could scrub the toilet (item number fourteen on his half of the list, now somewhat overdue). John had left the kitchen in a huff, and had been asleep when Rodney finally came to bed.

_I'm doing this for us_, Rodney had wanted to say, but it sounded silly, and John wouldn't have heard him anyway.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Rodney was in the middle of grading the most idiotic paper ever written by someone who was not a chimpanzee when his e-mail _pinged_.

**From: sheppardj@mit.edu  
Subject: Uhm.  
Text:** I did something bad. come here?

Rodney immediately opened the door to his office, where John sat at his desk, looking guilty and sheepish. It made him appear about twelve, and Rodney wished he would stop it.

“I'm sorry!” John exclaimed. “I thought this was mine, 'cause it was more toasted! And then I ate it, and it – it – it tasted weird! And then I...realized.”

Rodney stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

“This!” John thrust a toasted sandwich at him. It was Rodney's turkey and bacon on pumpernickel, and there were two bites out of the corner. John's turkey and bacon on light rye was lying untouched and forlorn in the zippered bag.

And maybe Rodney could have forgiven him the seemingly innocuous transgression, but he'd spent far too much time last night cleaning the grout in the shower with a toothbrush (number eight on John's list), and he was beginning to doubt John would ever understand how important this was to him. In those circumstances, the sandwich, with its two missing chunks, seemed to be taunting him, flouting his efforts as surely as John had been these past couple of weeks.

“Well, aren't you going to say something?” John demanded.

Rodney took a deep breath and let it out. “I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

John frowned. “Wait a minute. It's not like I did it on _purpose_.”

“Right,” Rodney said, fully intending to not sound sarcastic, but failing miserably.

“You – okay, this is – you're being an asshole.”

Rodney gaped. “_I'm_ being an asshole? Who's been – shirking his duties?”

“_Shirking my duties_?” John repeated, incredulous. “You unilaterally impose a list of chores and expect me to follow them, and when I refuse to play along I'm _shirking my duties_?” He shook his head. “Rodney, I knew you were a piece of work, but this is a whole new level, here.”

Rodney opened his mouth a couple of times, closed it. “I – it's a perfectly reasonable list.”

“Sure, if I like the smell of bleach and bathroom cleanser,” John shot back. “You've got me doing all the shit jobs.” Rodney opened his mouth, but John only held up a finger. “Think about it. I know you've got the damn lists memorized – just think about it."

Rodney didn't need to think about the lists, because as John said, he'd memorized them a long time ago. And fine, when he puts it _that_ way, it did seem a little imbalanced, but that wasn't the point. “The point is, you didn't even try,” Rodney said.

“No, Rodney,” John snapped, and it occurred to Rodney then that he hadn't ever seen John truly angry – at least before this. “The point is, you never asked.” And with that, he walked out, leaving the partly-eaten sandwich on his desk.

  


    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
Rodney didn't see John for the rest of the day, and when he came home, there was no one there. He tried not to look in the closet, and he was proud of the fact that he didn't look for a good half hour. John's clothes were still there, and Rodney might have leaned against the wall for a minute staring at them, because his knees suddenly seemed to be wobbling for some odd reason.

John didn't come home that night, and the next morning Rodney trudged off to the university, unsure of what would be waiting for him there. To his surprise, John was in the office when he came back from his first lecture after eleven, working on Rodney's Powerpoint presentation for the conference next week.

“Hey,” John said, his expression slightly wary but open, and Rodney was suddenly stepping forward and hauling him up and out of his chair, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in John's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Rodney breathed.

John's hand came up to stroke down Rodney's back, and Rodney closed his eyes. “Do you even know what you're apologizing for?” he asked.

“Not entirely, but I'm willing to work on it,” Rodney said, earning a chuckle and a squeeze from John. “How about when we get home tonight, we take a look at that list again, together?”

“Sounds like a plan,” John said, pulling back and leaning his forehead against Rodney's. “You make lunch today?”

Rodney's eyes widened; he'd forgotten completely. “Oh, no, I'm sorry, I –”

“Hey, hey,” John murmured, kissing him gently. “Don't worry about it – I took care of it.”

“You did?” Rodney asked, startled.

“Yeah,” John said. “I _can_ cook, y'know.”

“Oh,” Rodney said, stupidly. “Right, well, I suppose I could have just – asked.”

John kissed him again. “S'okay. Talking isn't exactly my strong suit either.” Releasing him, he pulled a drawer open and handed Rodney his lunch bag. “Here. I made you tuna. With, uh, little bits of apple and some other stuff.”

Rodney opened up the bag and pulled out the sandwich container, then pried off the lid and looked inside.

The sandwich had two bites missing from the lower right corner, but they'd been replaced with two bites from a rye sandwich. “You –” He looked up to see John scratching at the back of his neck.

“It's a fresh sandwich,” John reassured him. “It's just – it's – okay, it's symbolic.”

“You're secretly a literature major, aren't you?” Rodney asked.

“Hey, if you don't like it – ” John pouted, reaching for the container.

Rodney held it close to him. “No, don't. I like it. I – I love it.” He blinked, and John did too.

“Oh,” John said, a little stupidly, before he broke into a slow, toe-curling grin. “That's good.”

Rodney nodded, and after a little more blinking and staring, they sat down together at John's desk and ate their lunch. It was, Rodney noted, one of the most delicious sandwiches he could remember eating.

**Author's Note:**

> First published November 2008.


End file.
